


Faded for All

by yayasoba



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Friendship, Sad Ending, Tragedy, hardcore friendship, light Cullen Rutherford/female Inquisitor, literally says on the tin: major character death, mostly dorian and inquisitor friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yayasoba/pseuds/yayasoba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she swore to give everything to the Inquisition, she meant it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the beginning, this is not a romance. This definitely focuses on Lavellan and Dorian's friendship, which is why no pairings are marked in the beginning.  
> Many thanks to mudbloodedslytherin for betaing this work!

He saw the blush begin on Nyra’s face as she took one of Cullen’s mages from the chessboard.

He saw her blush again when the two of them spoke quietly in the garden. She fiddled with her hair as well, unable to maintain eye contact for long.

He saw Cullen rub the back of his neck nervously from time to time, always when she said something witty towards him, the poor, lovesick fool.

He saw how Nyra gently took his hand when they shook so much he couldn’t hold a report he was trying to show her.

He saw how carefully Cullen guarded her back when they went to find Maddox, saw how she did the same for him. They were a lethal team.

Dorian saw all that and more. He also saw how they were idiots when it came to actually initiating anything. For almost three-quarters of a year, they had been skirting around the issue and the entire Inner Circle was simply waiting for one of them to finally make the first move. However, it seemed like the two of them didn’t see the obvious signs, so Dorian took it upon himself to finally make sure his friends had a little bit of happiness. Both of them gave almost everything they had to the Inquisition, they deserved to have something of their own.

He didn’t bother with subtlety. They were beyond subtleties now.

Instead, after one of her less-harrowing judgements, he grabbed her arm and dragged her to the (mercifully) empty Undercroft.

“You, my dear, are utterly frustrating, you know that?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, Dorian,” she said, rubbing her temple tiredly. That had been increasing in frequency steadily for the past few months, he had noted. “Please, just spit it out, I have no time for games today.”

“You and the Commander have obviously been making eyes at each other for the past six months, and yet nothing has come out of it. Nothing! I’ve got three gold on the two of you initiating _something_ before Corypheus is defeated; you can’t let me down like this!” he said dramatically.

She gave him a wry smile. “I think you’ll be losing that gold, Dorian,” she said, her quiet, weak voice juxtaposing his boisterous one. “Nothing is happening between me and Cullen, ever.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” he replied. “Honestly, it’s as plain as day on both your faces. The man adores you and you clearly care a great deal for him. You have nothing to lose from this!”

“It’s not happening, Dorian,” she said, her tone making it clear that it was _final_. “Please, leave this alone.”

“I won’t,” he said stubbornly, crossing his arms. “Why are you refusing something that would obviously make you both very happy? Nyra, you deserve that much.”

“No,” she said. “It will never happen. And we are done here.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Dorian asked, as she turned her back on him. “At least tell me why?”

She stopped in her tracks, hands coming to clench the sides of her head before she whirled around to face him. “Because I’m dying!” she yelled at him, her face falling from anger into a defeated expression that crushed his heart. Her hands fell from her head to fist together, pressed to her chest. She let out a quiet sob. “Creators, I _can’t_ , Dorian. I’m dying.”

* * *

_How long have you known?_

_Since I closed the Breach? Maybe before. The signs were there. I always felt exhausted after closing a rift, but I thought it was to be expected. It wasn’t until after I closed the Breach that I really realized it. I was always much weaker after that._

He couldn’t stop reliving the conversation in his mind, praying that it was some cruel joke by the Maker, and that he had heard everything wrong.

_Every time I close a rift, I lose a bit more of myself. I think the Anchor is connected to me, my life, my magic, something. I don’t know exactly, neither does Solas. He’s done what he can, but it’s inevitable. We can’t separate me from the Mark and I can’t let those rifts remain open._

_Surely there’s another way. There has to be something we can try._

_Dorian,_ don’t _. Who knows how much longer I have? I don’t want to spend it searching for a cure that isn’t there. I don’t want you trying either. Solas has done what he can and we’re pretty sure that it only weakens me when I use the Mark. I’ll still be around to make sure the rifts are gone for good._

He couldn’t just _stand by_ and watch her die! But she had looked so broken, so utterly accepting of her fate, how could he argue in that moment?

_And after?_

_I have enough to close every rift, or so Solas believes. After that… well, I’ve been on borrowed time anyway. The living aren’t supposed to travel through the physical Fade. I’ve done more than I ever dreamed I’d be able to do. It’s not so bad._

He had seen the edges of fear creeping in, though. No matter how carefree she acted about it, he knew: death terrified her.

_Is it what’s making you tired?_

_Yes. I have to work more to keep up, but it hasn’t stopped me yet. I’ll still be fighting down to the last rift, I promise._

_Is it just the exhaustion?_

_Not exactly. Mostly, it’s just draining my energy, but it also drains me. More than just my strength, I mean. Things aren’t as… vibrant as they used to be. I don’t feel everything as sharply as I once did. My emotions, thoughts; they’re quieter, duller. I started feeling that when I closed the Breach as well._

The damn thing was turning her Tranquil as well, it appeared. He had always had some idea that the Maker existed, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Him to exist at the moment. Better that there be no Maker than one that would sit around and let this happen.

She had given everything for the Inquisition. Her future, her happiness, her dedication. But still it asked for more. It asked for everything.

_Now do you see why I keep my distance from Cullen? I can’t do that to him. I can’t ask him to love someone who’s already dead._

Why hadn’t he seen it? Why hadn’t any of them seen it? The tired spells, the fact that she had been slowly pulling away for weeks - months, really. Why hadn’t any of them even bothered asking? Save Solas, did anyone else suspect? Did they know and just not speak of it?

* * *

Dorian watched the others, looked to see if they knew.

Naturally, Cole did. She must have talked to him about keeping silent about it, otherwise he likely would have told everyone in Skyhold at this point. Nyra had been taking him on missions more and more often, and he saw the spirit hover closely by her side, especially during battles. When she stumbled more than once from weakness, he was there to lend an arm to lean on.

Bull had figured it out easily enough. He had mentioned his Ben-Hassarath training making him perceptive and, for once, it was not an exaggeration. He also knew enough that Nyra didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t bother forcing the issue. However, Dorian saw him invite her to drink with whatever group he was with as often as he could, trying to help her savor the time she had left to enjoy such things.

Leliana knew everything about everyone and he doubted Nyra had even bothered keeping it from her. The two of them seemed to work together to keep Josephine and Cullen mostly in the dark. The advisors were in close enough contact with the Inquisitor, they obviously could tell something was wrong. However, Nyra and Leliana managed to keep the full truth from them, he suspected.

Everyone else he believed had varying degrees of suspicion, but probably had no idea of the whole truth. Varric, Blackwall, and Cassandra were perceptive enough; they likely saw her exhaustion, but let themselves believe she was merely overworking herself. Indeed, Varric often insisted she’d take breaks on the road, telling Nyra she’d make herself sick if she kept up the pace she was working.

Nyra had kept Vivienne at a distance from the beginning; it took very little effort to keep her from noticing the exhaustion, and the Inner Circle protected their Inquisitor fiercely enough that Skyhold had no rumors for Vivienne to hear. Whatever the woman suspected, she kept to herself.

Sera was another matter. Though almost the same age, Nyra had taken on a somewhat mentor-like relationship with the elf, trying to keep Sera from mayhem she wouldn’t be able to get herself out of. Sera was also the master of denial. If she didn’t like what she saw, it didn’t exist. Likely Sera was as good at denying Nyra’s dying as he had been.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it. For a while, he had even been able to convince himself similarly to how Varric believed: she was overworked and needed a nice, long vacation they couldn’t afford to give her. Her clan’s death, the racial slurs, the politics were all too much. Anything but the fact that the very thing that should be their salvation was claiming her life as recompense.

Nyra, for her part, did her best to still be the strong Inquisitor that had inspired thousands to join their banners. She rarely delegated any extra work to her advisors, approved alliances, played nice with the Orlesian aristocracy, as well as going around wherever there were rifts, helping the locals while she was there.

Once Dorian found out, he noticed she took him along more often, while before she had relied more on Solas. She also took Cole and Bull along a majority of the time. The more rifts she closed, the more she began to depend on them as her main team, for obvious reasons. More than once, she was nearly knocked unconscious after closing a rift, barely able to keep herself from falling on her face. Bull would carry her to camp, and Cole and Dorian would watch over her while she struggled to gain enough strength to continue on.

Once after closing the rift, she was sleeping and the three of them were sitting in front of the fire, eating or doing small repairs on armor and weaponry. Cole was cleaning one of his daggers when he spoke softly.

“She wants it over with. She’s tired of being tired. Sleep entices her, soft, soothing, sweet. She’s trying to close them all, hopes she’ll be strong enough. We make her stronger; she doesn’t have to pretend around us. It’s easier to be strong when you don’t have to pretend.” His head jerked in Dorian’s direction. “She doesn’t like hearing about it because it makes us sad. But _she_ doesn’t mind. The fear and sadness left a while ago. Now, she’s alright with it. But she knows we aren’t, so she doesn’t want to talk about it. She doesn’t like seeing other people sad.” He paused. “She feels guilty about that. She feels guilty she can’t fix that.”

Dorian shook his head. That elf had a larger guilt complex than Varric and was much worse at hiding it.

“How is she holding up, Cole?” Bull asked, taking a swig of his drink.

Cole paused, as though he was listening to whispers that all other ears were deaf to (which, in a way, was how it worked). “She’s not weak in the Fade. There, she’s strong again. She likes it when she can stand on her own. Waking up is hard, takes longer now. But she can still do it, so she will.”

Stand on her own? Dorian never saw her ask for assistance, and she was always leading them, staff in one hand… pressing into the ground with every other step.

She hadn’t needed to do that three weeks ago.

* * *

 

“Redcliffe’s beautiful,” she observed, sitting on the docks, leaning her back against one of the posts. Dorian chose to stand instead, one arm resting on the post across from her.

“I suppose, for Ferelden,” he said. “It’s quaint.”

“If this is quaint, I’d hate to hear what you’d have to say about the Dalish and their aravels,” she said with a laugh. It quickly stopped, before she sighed. “I will miss this.”

He froze, unsure if she wanted him to respond or not. “Yes, well, I’m sure you can always come back and visit. I’ll even come along, if you wish,” he said. “Though that will take some bribery.”

She gave him a sad smile. “You know I wasn’t talking about that,” she said. “It’s all right. I know I haven’t talked about it… at all. I was hoping that if I didn’t, maybe you’d stop looking at me like you’ve already lost me. I had hoped that maybe if I avoided the issue, we’d go back to the way it was before. But you haven’t, Dorian.”

“How exactly do you expect me to react?” Dorian asked, his voice rising. “With a smile and a laugh? How do you want me to react as I watch you die?”

A few months ago, she would have fought back with equal anger, rising to match him. She had done it to nobles and she did it to her friends as well. Now, he saw the faintest spark of anger in her eyes, but she couldn’t feed it enough to make herself yell anymore. Now, it wasn’t worth it. Instead, she gave him a wan smile.

“I’m not telling you how to feel, Dorian, as though anyone could. But the thing is, I’m still alive. I’m still here for now. Can’t you appreciate that while it’s still true?”

He slid down the post, until he was sitting. “It’s not easy to watch,” he said, gazing out across the water to the homes on the opposite edge. Watching one of the only friends he had fade in front of his eyes - it was like Felix, but worse. At least with Felix, he hadn’t had to watch him struggle every day. It was less immediate. And while he could never condone what Alexius had done, he had a bit more sympathy for the man. It’s difficult to watch the dying fight to live.

“I’m not saying it is,” she said. “You don’t have to accept it, you don’t have to like it. But for my sake, could you please at least try to pretend for a little?” She reached over and took his hand in her own, smaller one. “Please?”

He twisted his wrist so that his palm was facing hers. “I promise, I’ll try. Don’t expect me to be perfect, though.”

“I thought you were always perfect,” she joked, with a true laugh this time. “But really, thank you.”

* * *

 

She leaned against her staff, staring down the ledge at the rift.

“The last one?” Bull asked.

She nodded. “The last one,” she said quietly. She sighed, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. When she opened her eyes, they were set and resolute. “Let’s go.” No elaboration, no last-minute words to her companions, nothing. Just acceptance and calm. Dorian wished he had even a portion of the same composure, but his heart thudded in his chest.

Dorian and Bull shared a look before they followed her and Cole down the steep path, positioning themselves in their pre-appointed places. Dorian and Nyra perched themselves on the ledge, while Cole and Bull moved closer to the rift.

He wanted to say something before anything else happened, but didn’t know what to say. It was a foolish hope, but maybe if they didn’t say goodbye, she’d still live.

He scoffed at himself. It was a childish belief after all; but Dorian couldn’t stop a small part of him from hoping all the same.

And then it was too late to say anything. Nyra lifted up her palm and sent out a thread of energy to the rift above them. It pulsed outward, green fingers connecting with the ground. For a moment, all was calm and eerily quiet. Then, the rift flared again, and a terror formed in front of Bull. He started hacking off its legs. Cole, meanwhile, was darting around at impossible speeds, finding weak points on the demon.

Nyra and Dorian shot repeatedly at the despair demon that floated along the edges of the battlefield, keeping it away from the melee fighters. Once that disappeared into the rift, Nyra shot her palm to the sky and started to stitch it shut.

Cole and Bull started to make their way up as Nyra fought to shut the rift closed. He could see her face grimacing and hear the faint sound of a grunt; the only concessions she ever gave of the pain it caused. Slowly, ever so slowly, the rift stitched shut, Nyra pouring more and more of herself into it. With a cry, she finally released the magic, right before she slumped into Dorian’s arms. Slowly, he guided her to the ground, cradling the upper half of her body in his arms.

Her face was lifeless, all the blood drained. He held a hand near her mouth, felt her neck and wrist, struggling to find some sign of life. _No, no… Please let her be alive._

“She’s alive, but deep in the Fade,” Cole said as he ran up to them. “She won’t wake up for a while.”

“Thank the Maker,” Dorian said, finally letting himself breathe as he felt glorious relief wash over him.

All the rifts were closed, and Nyra was alive. Perhaps the Maker could occasionally work miracles after all.


	2. The Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good fortune never holds out, even for the best.

Then the sky exploded, a sickly green color that he had hoped never to see again. All the relief Dorian had felt, all the joy at victory, of Nyra _alive_ , was wiped away with the new Breach in the sky. The Maker was a cruel god, indeed.

Immediately, he raced down to the stables to see it was in full chaos. The stable hands were saddling every horse they had. Blackwall and Cassandra were already there in full gear, sheathing their swords. “What’s the news?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Blackwall said. “But whatever happens, we’re ready for it.”

Quickly, the other members of the Inner Circle rushed in, some in more complete sets of armor than others. Cole was doing his part by teleporting himself around to different places and finding missing pieces.

“Please tell me this is all a bad dream,” Varric said, pulling on a glove as he strode in. Bianca was already ready, a quiver of bolts at his side.

“Unfortunately, no,” Nyra said, walking in. She looked pale, more so than usual, but other than that she looked stronger than she had in months. “Corypheus is in Haven. He’s making his last stand, so now it’s time for us to meet him.” Her back was straight, her shoulders squared, a resigned, but resolute, gleam in her eye.

She walked over to her hart and grabbed the reins, but before she mounted, she turned to the nine of them. Dorian heard the shuffle of armor and knew that the three advisors and Morrigan had joined them.

“We have come so much further than any of us could have hoped,” she said. “I am so proud to have fought beside each and every one of you. I count every one of you as a valued friend, and I hope you might say the same of me. Our journey has not been easy, but we have come through victorious at every turn. Today will be no different. Today, we end this. Will you all fight for the Inquisition, one last time?”

“Today, and every day,” Blackwall said, fist over his heart.

“Do you honestly think I’d let you go without me?” Sera asked.

“We all stand with you, Inquisitor,” Varric said, gesturing to everyone standing near him. They all nodded.

For a moment, Nyra’s smile seemed almost unbearably sad, but then it was gone. Dorian wished he could pretend he had imagined it.

“Then we ride,” she said, mounting her hart. They all found their horses and filed out of Skyhold, a small, serious band.

Nyra set a steady pace, riding just ahead of the rest of them. It wasn’t a full gallop, as the horses couldn’t sustain the pace all the way to Haven, but neither was it a walk.

Dorian tried to pull close enough, but the pace did not encourage conversation. However, she did look at him with such a raw expression, he didn’t have to. She knew it was her last battle, and, despite all her words, she was terrified. But she would follow through because that was what she always did. She had said her final goodbyes as best she knew how and almost everyone knew it at this point. He saw it in the clench of Cassandra’s hands as she gripped the reins too tightly, in the frown Blackwall wore - even more serious than usual - and in the fact that neither Varric nor Sera cracked a joke once.

It was a somber party that finally arrived in Haven, but then the battle was upon them and they had no time for tears or goodbyes. There was a would-be god trying to destroy their world to deal with first.

* * *

Then it was over. Corypheus was gone, destroyed by the very Mark he had unitentionally created.

As the rift Nyra created flicked from view, Dorian saw her crumple in a heap. Bull, Cole, and he rushed forward, Cole managing to fade from view and reappear by her side just in time to catch her before her body hit the ground.

“Is she…?” Dorian asked, unable to force himself to say the words.

Cole paused for a moment, looking forward, listening. “She’s not here anymore.” Dorian sighed, pressing a hand to his face. “She wasn’t happy to leave, but she was still _glad_. I could feel it. She felt… free. Like something had been binding her, caught, constricting, crushing. Now it’s gone. Light, like the air, free to fly.”

Dorian kneeled next to Cole, brushed a few strands away from her face, pulled them past the tip of her ear. “She never wanted to hide them. She’d like that,” Cole said.

_I hear what they say, see their looks,_ she had told him once. _They see me as inferior because of my race, even as they call me their Herald. I cannot control what they say, nor do I have a mind to. But no matter what, I will show them that I am an elf first, and proud of it. And that is why I will never hide my ears. The Inquisition and Thedas itself will see them and know I am not ashamed. They will know I am not afraid of their words._

That had always been her silent rebellion, and he would make sure it remained.

“Come on,” Bull said, taking Nyra from Cole’s arms and turning back towards the ruins of Haven. “We need to find the others.”

When they saw, some soldiers cried out in shock and Sera screamed profanities until Blackwall managed to hush her, but other than that, there was no noise from anyone. They were a silent, somber party that slowly made their way back to Skyhold. Bull held Nyra with one arm, the other guiding his mount forward, while the rest of the Inner Circle formed an honor guard around the two of them. The soldiers fell behind the party, all except for one soul who pushed his horse ahead to go and tell the rest of the Inquisition the results from the battle. And the losses they had suffered.

* * *

 

He saw Cullen standing at his desk, clutching a report in his hands so tightly that the paper quivered. Dorian stepped out from under the doorway and leaned against the wall, distracting his hands by pulling out a book and flipping it open. His eyes scanned over the words, but his mind didn’t register what they were seeing.

“Can I help you with anything, Dorian?” Cullen asked, the weariness evident in his tone.

“Simply wanted to see how you were holding up,” he said, voice deceptively light. “Haven’t seen you outside your office much in the past four days.”

“I’m fine,” Cullen said, stubbornly glaring at his report. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re allowed to miss her, you know,” Dorian said. “There’s no rule that says you can’t have a heart. You were her friend, as much as any of us were.”

“The Inquisition is leaderless,” Cullen argued. “I need to focus on the task-”

“The Inquisition has more than just you, last time I checked,” Dorian shot back. “And last time I checked, Leliana and Josephine were mourning like the rest of us. No one can begrudge you that.”

Cullen refused to answer, simply staring straight at his paper; his glare looked like it should have burnt right through the report.

Dorian slammed the book shut and forcefully set it back in place. “Dammit man,” he growled, whirling on Cullen. “You can’t just shut yourself in here and kill yourself with work! Talk to someone, go take a walk, do _something_ , anything. Nyra wouldn’t want to see you like this, and you know that better than I.”

“Don’t tell me how to mourn,” Cullen growled, finally looking up at Dorian instead of the parchment in his hand. He glared at him for a moment, before his face fell. “She put everything she had into the Inquisition. I will not see her hard work go to waste.”

“I’m not trying to stop you from doing that,” Dorian argued. “But you can’t keep doing this every waking hour of every bloody day!” He paused, taking a deep breath to stop himself. “She poured her heart into the Inquisition. We all know that. But she also let herself have time apart from work. You may not think it will help you, but I don’t think you’re helping yourself by burying yourself under all these reports.” He took an envelope out of his jacket and slapped it on the table. “Leliana found that when she went through her belongings. She wrote one for each of us. You should read yours.”

Cullen stared blankly at the back, his name written in familiar, elegant script. After a long moment of silence, he nods. “Thank you for bringing this to me, Dorian. Is there anything else you need?” he asks, voice stiff and back straight again.

Dorian repressed the urge to slap the man, to do something to get more of a reaction out of him, rather than allowing Cullen to retreat back into himself. However, he decided that right then was not the time and that he would have to try again later. “Not at the moment. I’ll leave you to your work.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked out. At the doorway, he paused and turned his head to look back. “We were planning on having a round of drinks tonight, for her. You should join us.”

Cullen didn’t reply, instead flipping to a new report. Dorian sighed, shaking his head.

_Please look after Cullen._

_Bloody impossible task when the man doesn’t want to be helped._

He could practically hear her laughter in his ear. _You can be just as stubborn as he is, when you want to. Don’t give up on him just yet._

He closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply. _For you, I’ll try._

* * *

 

_Dorian,_

~~_There are_ ~~

~~~~_~~I wish I could have~~ _

~~_Do you think I have a place by the Maker's side? Do you think he'd take a Dalish elf?_ ~~

_~~I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.~~ _

_Creators, this is difficult. I think Josephine will have my head for all the sheets of parchment I’ve ruined. You know I’ve never been very good at words. Still, for you, I will try._

_Firstly, I suppose I should apologize for not telling you sooner. You did deserve to know, and not in the way I told you. I’m sorry._

_I am glad for the time I knew you. If someone had told me that I would become friends with a mage from Tevinter, I’m pretty sure I would have laughed. And yet I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have fight beside me in the battles we faced. Thank you for everything. Not just for fighting with me, but also for the… less violent memories. I can’t believe you and I managed to read through the entire library. I still don’t think Leliana believes us. And thank you for all the helpful notes on potion-making and spell casting. I hope I gave you a useful piece or two of information in return. You should keep up the notes we started. Who knows what brilliant idea your brain might find in them?_

_You once called me your best friend. I don’t know if I ever returned the sentiment. If I haven’t, I do now: you are my best friend as well, Dorian. I hope you know how much your friendship meant to me. I wish you all the happiness in the world. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I know you will become something even greater than you already are (yes, a difficult thing to do; I’m sure you’ll still manage it)._

_If I might ask, a favor from you: please look after Cullen, if you’re still with the Inquisition after all this is over. Make sure he doesn’t work himself to death. I know you’re his friend as well, so I suppose it’s redundant in a way. Still, I had to ask._

_There’s so much else I could say, but I’m not sure how to say it. I’ll let the memories speak for themselves, I suppose._

_Thank you for everything. I love you._

_Nyra_


End file.
